


five times hugh asked paul to marry him

by ashski



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, but also just straight up fluff, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 16:59:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashski/pseuds/ashski
Summary: (and the one time something else happened instead)





	five times hugh asked paul to marry him

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пять раз, когда Хью просил Пола стать его мужем](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192121) by [Star_Trek_20XX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Trek_20XX/pseuds/Star_Trek_20XX)



> What it says on the tin. A very simple foray back into writing after an incredibly long hiatus and as such I can only apologise.

_i._

Paul was not a fan of the idea of marriage, that was something Hugh had always known from the offset.

It was towards the end of their first date - which had been going decidedly well - when Paul stopped dead as they walked along the darkened shores of the planet, turning to face Hugh and taking his hands between his.

“Hugh,” he said, and Hugh raised an eyebrow at the serious tone in his voice. It wasn’t first-date tone. Something was clearly troubling the other man, and Hugh curled his fingers, changing the position of their hands so he was cradling Paul’s in his, squeezing gently.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Paul took a deep breath, eyes fixed on their hands, then raised his head to look Hugh directly in the eye. The moonlight made Paul’s blue eyes dark and sad, more beautiful than Hugh could have imagined, and it took his breath away.

“I don’t want to get married.” Paul tripped over the words slightly in his rush to get them out, and Hugh couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the sweetness of it, despite his more overwhelming feeling of confusion.

“I know I give a great first impression, Paul,” he replied, voice rich with humor, “but even I don’t tend to propose on the first date.”

Paul smiled at that, body relaxing with a small exhaled chuckle. “That’s not what I was implying.”

“I know,” Hugh replied, squeezing his hand again. “So why don’t you tell me exactly what you are trying to say?”

“My parents had a bad marriage,” Paul continued, without hesitation. “My sister too - turns out sometimes it takes moving to a whole different galaxy to get over someone. I’ve never really seen a marriage in my family that’s worked. All I’ve seen is people who used to be in love with each other grow to resent and hate, and it’s the saddest thing to watch unfold around you. I don’t want that. I don’t want a marriage to ruin something good.”

“Okay?” Hugh interjected softly, raising an eyebrow. “So?”

“So…” Paul hesitated, running a nervous hand through his pale hair. “I like you.”

Hugh couldn’t help but smile. “I like you, too. That doesn’t mean we have to get married, this is only our first date.”

“No,” Paul admitted, with a gentle incline of his head. “But I need you to know, here and now. I need you to know and I need to know that you know. Because maybe this works out and maybe it doesn’t - but I need you to know right from the beginning that if it works, it doesn’t end in marriage. Can you be okay with that?”

Hugh kissed him, smiling against his lips.

“You’re a very odd man, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Says the man who hums opera,” Paul shot back, wrapping a hand around his waist and pulling him closer, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

“I mean it though, you know,” Paul said again once they separated. “Are you really not bothered by it?”

“Really.”

“So you’d be totally fine if you asked me to marry me and I said no?”

Hugh grinned. “Marry me?” he asked, and Paul’s mouth fell open in shock, frowning at him for a moment before licking his lips and looking him steadily in the eye.

“No.”

“Alright.” Hugh shrugged. “So what do you want to do for date number two?”

 

Hugh had treasured that moment between them for a long time, often thinking back on it fondly. It had been the moment he knew this one was special, that Paul Stamets was different to any man he’d ever met, that despite his grumpiness and his appalling classlessness when it came to music choice, Hugh had made the right call when his instinct had told him to approach the man back in that cafe. Because Paul Stamets may have been grumpy, but he was also soft, he was honest, even if it might lose him a chance - and Hugh respected the hell out of that. That openness, that total lack of a facade or concern for what showing his true self might gain or lose him, was what made Hugh approach him at that first meeting and it was what - in the shining light of a moon somewhere on Alpha Centauri - had made Hugh realize he may not ever want to let him go. Married or not.

 

_ii._

The second time Hugh asked Paul to marry him was by accident. It was the first time Paul topped, and Hugh was quite literally in heaven. He loved fucking Paul, _really_ loved it, but it had been such a long time coming, and he’d been desperate to switch since the beginning, to know what Paul felt like inside him - and he hadn’t been disappointed. Paul moved with a firm gentleness, surety and skill, and just the merest hint of something darker that begged for more exploration. It was everything Hugh had hoped from him and more, and when he came it was with a shudder and a flash of stars behind his vision.

He grabbed Paul’s face and pulled it to him, kissing him hard, and Paul ground once more into his shaking body, pulling a soft, “Fuck” from his lips. He felt the other man’s mouth move to his neck, biting gently at the flesh there, thumb rubbing over Hugh’s twitching cock, pulling the last of his orgasm from him.

“Fuck, Paul,” Hugh gasped. “Fucking marry me.”

Paul froze, hands stilling, mouth falling away and leaving an unpleasant cold patch above Hugh’s shoulder.

“I…” Hugh swallowed, embarrassed and annoyed at himself. The one thing, _one_ , that Paul asked him not to say - and he’d just said it in the worst possible way. “I’m sorry I didn’t actually…”

Paul laughed, and Hugh’s mouth fell open.

“I mean I knew I was good.” Paul smirked then, angling his head to lean in and press a soft kiss to Hugh’s stunned lips. “But let’s not get carried away here.”

Hugh ran his fingers through the other man’s hair before moving a hand to cradle his face, pushing back lightly so as to look him in the eyes. “You’re not mad I said it?”

Paul gave him that signature look of his that made Hugh’s heart melt, eyebrows raised, an adorable crease appearing between them, his mouth pulled into a confused smirk. It was Paul’s ‘I’m surprised by your idiocy’ face, and it was beautifully adorable, even when Hugh was the idiot on the receiving end of it.

“Why would I be mad at a compliment?” he replied, blinking at him. “Besides,” he added, dropping another kiss to the corner of Hugh’s mouth before shifting to pull away, “it’s not like you _meant_ it. We both know that’s never on the table.”

“Yeah,” Hugh replied, shooting a smile back at him. “Paul Stamets doesn’t do marriage.”

“Nope,” Paul agreed, then looked Hugh up and down with a decidedly hungry expression. “He does do doctors, though. What do you say, round two?”

Hugh’s smile widened. “Oh I suppose so.”

Paul leant back down to kiss him, hands moving to his hips and pulling their bodies against each other, and Hugh’s eyes fluttered shut. He hadn’t meant it, not really. Their relationship was still young, and even if it continued on the great way it had been going - that option had never been on the table, and he knew that. It didn’t bother him, certainly not at this stage. He was enjoying their relationship, truly, but it was still so new. Everything between them was still tentative and unsure. The future didn’t matter, what mattered was the now, and the now was wonderful.

 

_iii._

Hugh had friends whose significant others were soldiers. He had friends whose friends were security officers, first officers, captains even. He had friends whose significant others were constantly in danger, and who had cried on him many a time when they had had another close encounter. He had friends who he’d treated in the aftermath of disaster as they sat holding the lifeless body of those significant others.

Hugh had seen love, and he had seen tragedy. Hugh had seen enough to know that the two coincided with sad frequency. This was why, when Hugh fell in love with a scientist, he counted himself extremely lucky. Paul was Starfleet like the rest of them, but he was a scientist first. He spent most of his time grounded, in his lab, him and Straal waxing poetic about their mushrooms. It was adorable, it warmed Hugh’s heart, but more than that - it comforted him. Paul wasn’t on the command track. He wasn’t desperately trying to prove himself on dangerous away missions, beaming down into unknown situations and territories, fighting for peace and promotion. Sure, he was rising in rank, but through scientific achievement and not determination for glory.

He had friends who found that ‘I’ll be a captain one day, watch me’ vibe attractive. Hugh didn’t. Macho ambition didn’t do it for him, whoever it was coming from. Intelligence did. Sensitivity did, even when masked behind grumpiness. Paul didn’t care what rank he was as long as he could research. Paul cared about discovery, not glory, and Hugh had never found anything so attractive as he did that. He also greatly enjoyed the peace of mind it brought him. Sure, he himself might have to run off on less than secure missions - but Paul never did. He never had to worry for Paul like that.

Not until he did.

War was not something anyone at Starfleet had seen coming - certainly not so suddenly or so brutally. _Certainly_ not against the Klingons. Suddenly though, completely out of the dark, war was upon them, and Hugh didn’t even have time to return to earth before word came through that Paul had been assigned to a ship and sent off to fight, just like everyone else.

The Battle of the Binary Stars was brutal, a massacre, by all accounts, and as news broke across the Federation as it had happened Hugh had found himself unable to breathe. Ship after ship was lost, crew after crew, soul after soul - and Hugh wasn’t there. But Paul was. His Paul. Not-a-soldier Paul. His scientist Paul with a love of mushrooms was in the middle of one of the bloodiest massacres the Federation had seen for over a hundred years, and Hugh was terrified.

When the battle was over he demanded more than asked for his immediate transfer to the hospitals at the closest Starbase. Paul’s ship had made it, he knew, but they’d suffered heavy losses, and the journey to the Starbase was agony for Hugh as he prepared to face the reality that he’d watched so many of his friends face. One he’d foolishly expected never to face himself.

As agonising as the journey was though, stepping foot inside the hospital was worse. The place was chaos, overflowing with patients and medical staff, no real order to it such was the great number of casualties. Hugh was desperate, his heart ready to break in his chest - but he was also a doctor, and he was there to help people. With a heavy heart he had pulled out his medkit and set to work, treating patient after patient, trying to pick up the slack where other doctors became overwhelmed.

It was twenty seven hours after he arrived, god knew how many patients treated, how many lost, when Hugh came face to face with that which he’d feared most. The doors to the ward he was working in opened, and he watched as security officers carried in another load of patients. Gurney, after gurney, setting them down wherever there was space. He approached them with the weariness of a man who had spent the last day fighting against the inevitability of death, mentally trying to prepare himself for whatever might be needed next . Then he stopped dead.

Lying on a gurney amongst them, indistinguishable from any other fallen soldier to anyone there except to Hugh, unconscious and bloodied but with a chest that rose and fell in perhaps the most beautiful movement Hugh had ever seen, was Paul.

“Doctor Hoth?” he called, turning to the CMO of the base as they too made for the newest influx of patients.

“Yes, Doctor?” they asked.

“Permission to have this man as my patient?”

Hoth frowned at him. “You’re asking permission now, Doctor? It’s all hands on deck here, take whoever you can, there’s no time to fight over it.”

“Understood, Doctor,” Hugh replied, “but I should tell you that this man is my… he’s my boyfriend, sir.”

“Ah.” Hoth paused, looking from Hugh to Paul’s still body and back. “Why don’t I take him, Doctor?”

“But I -”

“I’ll do everything in my power. Quite likely more than you will find yourself capable of, given your compromised position.”

Hugh shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from where Paul’s uniform lay sticky and blood-soaked against him. “Please…”

Hoth lay a gentle, scaled hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “Go and save a life, Doctor Culber,” they instructed him firmly. “I will endeavour to save his.”

Hugh swallowed thickly, then nodded, watching as the CMO moved to Paul, calling over a nurse and setting to work. With great effort, he pulled his eyes away and turned his attention to another patient, grabbing a tricorder and setting to work.

It was an agonising three hours before Hoth returned to him, face unreadable. “He’ll live.” The doctor told him, and Hugh let out a relieved sob, letting his face fall to his hands.

“Permission to see him, sir?”

“Permission granted. You’ve more than earned yourself a break, Doctor.” Hoth told him, and Hugh didn’t need another word. He ran to Paul’s bed, grabbing the PADD that lay at the end and skimming over the details that lay there. Hoth had told the truth, he would live, more than live. Paul’s injuries had been severe, but not so severe as to be untreatable. A couple of weeks and he should make a full recovery.

Which was why Hugh didn’t know why he still couldn’t breathe. He read over the facts again, letting his weary brain truly absorb them. Paul was going to be fine, totally fine. He moved to sit next to him, perched on the edge of the bed, reaching for his hand and cradling it between his. He would be fine. He just needed to wake up.

As always though, Paul Stamets was a decidedly stubborn man, and six days went by, with no sign that he showed any intention of opening his eyes , despite him being supposedly fixed.

“Doctor Hoth are you sure the readings are correct?” Hugh asked, watching the infinitesimal signs of irritation at the repeated question register on the doctor’s face.

“I promise you they are correct, Doctor Culber, it would seem he’s just not ready to wake up yet.”

Hugh let out a frustrated breath and turned to sit back at his now customary place on the edge of Paul’s bed.

“Paul?” he said, the depressive familiarity of the lack of response no less painful. “Paul, I know you’re there. I know you’re tired, but I need you to stop this now. I’m tired, and I need you to wake up, understood?” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Paul, and I need you to just wake up now.”

Paul remained stubbornly still, as usual, and Hugh swatted angrily at the tear that sat in the corner of his eye.

“Paul,” he breathed, voice shakier. “Please. Please just wake up now. I swear if you don’t wake up I’ll… I’ll… if you don’t wake up I’ll ask you to marry me.”

Paul’s pale eyelids remained shut, and Hugh’s jaw tightened. “Fine then. You asked for it.”

“Paul Stamets, you are without a doubt the grumpiest, most stubborn, and best man I’ve ever known. You’re intelligent, and honest, and kind, and I love you so very much. I love you and I want to be with you forever, so please just… just wake up. Wake up and marry me.”

Hugh stared at him, hands clasped tight around one of his, his body still unmoving, and he sighed. He stood, shoulders slumping as he placed Paul’s hand carefully back at his side, turning to leave the room once more and return to work.

“You know I’m not the marrying sort,” a croaky voice came from behind him, and Hugh turned, hand coming to cover his mouth as he stared into blue eyes he hadn’t seen in such a painfully long time.

“Paul,” he exclaimed on a whisper, then crossed the room in three short strides, throwing his arms around him and holding Paul tight against him, nose pressed into his neck, breathing him in.

“Hey,” Paul murmured into his hair in response.

Hugh pulled back, staring into his eyes for another long moment before closing the distance and kissing him softly, hands cradling his face with reverence.

“I love you, too,” Paul told him, voice soft, before kissing him again.

Hugh pulled back, staring at him for a long moment before smirking. “Sorry I asked you to marry me, I was beginning to run out of options there.”

Paul smiled in response, taking Hugh’s hands and cradling them in his. “You know me so well, my dear doctor.” He paused, considering their point of contact, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” Hugh asked. “That you were in a coma for six days, most definitely. Come on, I should call Doctor Hoth, he needs to examine you now you’re awake.”

“Hugh,” Paul said, staring at him carefully. “Does it bother you?”

Hugh’s eyes lifted to meet Paul’s again. “No,” he told him truthfully. “I love you, I want you to be happy, that wouldn’t make you happy.”

“Would it make you happy?” Paul asked, stroking a thumb across the back of Hugh’s hand. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Paul,” Hugh replied, putting on the firmest of his doctor voices. “I spent several days last week not knowing if I would ever see you again, not knowing if you were dead or alive. I don’t care what official or non-official things we do, I care that you’re alive. I care that you’re healthy and well and I… I think I care that I wake up next to you every morning, because I can’t take that again. If there’s danger I need to be there with you. I can’t be halfway across the galaxy wondering if you’ll come home from battle.”

“Well I wouldn’t worry about that,” Paul told him with a gentle smile, reaching up to stroke his face. “I’m heading straight back to the lab once I’m fit enough to fly.”

Hugh took a long breath, meeting his eye carefully. “Paul, that’s not an option anymore, I’m so sorry.”

Paul frowned at him. “What? What do you mean?”

“The Battle of the Binaries was just the beginning. The Federation is at war.”

Paul’s face fell, brows knitting together as he processed that information. Finally he looked up again, squeezing Hugh’s hand in his. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, you’re right then. I don’t want to be assigned to some random ship and never know if I’ll see you again. We have to put in a formal request. Wherever we go, we go together.”

“Yeah?” Hugh asked, feeling relief wash over him.

Paul kissed him, harder this time, one hand remaining at his neck as he pulled back, leaning their foreheads together. “Yes, Hugh, I love you. I may not be interested in getting married, but that has no bearing on the fact that I want to be with you, for as long as I possibly can be.”

Hugh smiled, stealing another kiss from him as he stroked a hand gently across his cheek.

“Okay, joint assignment it is then. Now I’m getting Doctor Hoth, I want to know you’re going to live long enough to make it there.”

Paul replied with a fond roll of his eyes, but settled back into his pillows, apparently reluctant to argue.

“I love you,” he called as Hugh headed for the door, and Hugh couldn’t help the swell of warmth in his heart.

“I love you, too.”

 

_iv._

Paul Stamets drunk was a rare and wonderful thing to witness, and much as he liked to roll his eyes and sigh dramatically before chastising him - Hugh secretly loved it. He loved Paul for his grumpiness, his surly standoffish exterior, because he knew exactly why it was there. Paul Stamets, for all his bluster and grumbling, was a sweetheart. He might poison Hugh with one of his precious mushrooms if he ever told people that, but the truth was his boyfriend was, deep down, the biggest of softies.

So when Paul got drunk, Hugh enjoyed watching his grumpy scientist come out of his shell for brief periods where everyone could see it, and Hugh couldn’t get into trouble for telling people about it. He wanted everyone to see what a good person Paul was, to understand the heart of gold that beat beneath his chest.

Most of all, though, Paul drunk was wonderful because he was uninhibited and joyful, which Hugh found to be an even rarer instance than drunk Paul himself these days.

There was a large part of him that thought he might actually have been more angry than Paul and Straal put together when Starfleet Command had marched into their lab and informed the scientists that their research was no longer just that, that it was time to test it in theory - on board ship. He knew, as angry as Paul had been that his research had been taken to help fight a war, there was a small part of him that had at least been excited at being given the resources to truly continue on a scale he never could have before. Until Lorca, that was, when it had become clear that their ‘research vessel’ was captained by a war hardened and hungry maniac,

Hugh had been growing more concerned about the situation by the day. Concerned not just for the man he loved, but for the future of Starfleet in general. Was this what they were now? Warriors. Soldiers. The scientists among them nothing more than a means to an end for the top brass. He hated it, hated feeling a part of it - but not as much as he hated what it was doing to Paul. Ever since Lorca’s captaincy style had revealed itself, Paul had smiled with a tragic decrease of frequency. He was grumpier day by day, surlier. In his professional opinion Hugh was beginning to suspect depression, and it broke his heart to watch it, to feel powerless to help the man he loved slip further and further into his funk.

He knew Paul missed his lab partner, his friend, and that he enjoyed researching less without Straal there to do it with. With pressures and demands coming from above him. With reprimand when his science didn’t yield the results their captain wanted. But none of those were things he had power over, the only thing he could do was try his utmost to keep Paul supported and happy in his personal life. Which was exactly why he insisted on throwing him a birthday party - to get him out of the lab he was driving himself crazy in if nothing else.

It had been a resounding success as well, much to Hugh’s delight - Paul had gotten drunk and carefree for a night, and the crew had deeply enjoyed both themselves, and getting to know the happier side of their Chief of Engineering. For once, as they returned to their quarters, Hugh found himself in a good mood, despite the fact he was having to physically hold his boyfriend upright.

“I’dfun.” Paul mumbled, as the door slid shut behind them.

“Good,” Hugh replied, stroking a hand over his cheek as he walked them to the bed and sat Paul down at the edge. “You deserved some fun.”

“Feel dizzy now,” Paul added then though, sticking his bottom lip out, and Hugh couldn’t help but smile at how adorable the petulant expression looked on his face.

“Well that’s where I come in. There are certain perks to dating a doctor, you know.”

Paul flinched as the hypospray touched him, frowning at it accusingly. “Ouch,” he said with over exaggerated deliberacy.

“Oh shush, it didn’t hurt. And you’ll thank me in the morning.”

Paul didn’t reply only sat there, frowning to himself for a moment, before looking up and meeting Hugh’s gaze.

“We’re not dating. Are we? Are we really dating?” Hugh blinked in surprise. He knew Paul’s drunks, all of Paul’s drunks - forgetful wasn’t one of them.

“Just a little,” he told him, taking a seat next to him on the bed, and taking one of his hands with concern. “Have you forgotten? You didn’t hit your head tonight did you?” He reached out his spare hand to run a hand through the other man’s hair, searching for a lump, but Paul pulled away, shaking his head.

“No no no,” he sighed. “I know we are I just mean. Are we? Is that all we’re doing? Dating? Aren’t we more?”

Hugh smiled reassuringly. “Of course we are, for as long as you want us to be.”

“Then what are we?” Paul demanded with a worried frown. “I love you, I want you to be mine.”

“I am yours,” Hugh told him, voice soft, reaching to cradle his face so he could meet his eyes. “For as long as you want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” Paul whispered in response, not a moment’s hesitation. “Always.”

“Then that’s what we are,” Hugh murmured, dropping a soft kiss to his lips. “We’re together, each other’s, always.”

Paul examined him through his pale lashes, then reached forwards and kissed him again, hands coming up to his neck, thumbs stroking along Hugh’s jawline. “Ask me again,” Paul murmured against Hugh’s lips.

“Ask you what?” Hugh mumbled through the kiss, fingers carding happily through golden hair.

“Ask me to marry you.”

Hugh froze, pulling back. “What?”

Paul cocked his head to one side. “I… I just like hearing you say it,” he shrugged.

“But it’s not what you want,” Hugh pointed out, watching Paul’s face intently. “Why would you want me to ask?”

“I just… it makes me happy to hear you say it.”

Hugh let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re a very strange man, do you know that?”

Paul hummed in contented agreement, before leaning forwards to rest their foreheads together. “Will you ask me?”

Hugh rolled his eyes, but took Paul’s hands anyway, looking up into his eyes without breaking their contact. “Marry me?” he asked with a smirk, and Paul smiled back.

“Thank you,” the other man said, kissing him again softly, then he shuffled back and lay down, pulling at the sheets to cover him and wriggling until he was comfortable. “You promise no hangover, right?”

“I promise,” Hugh told him, pulling off his boots and tucking himself in next to Paul, pulling him close.

It was several long minutes later, as he felt Paul’s breathing even out as his fingers trailed patterns into the pale skin of his arm, that Hugh realized that after all the times he’d asked, for the first time, Paul’s response had not actually been a negative.

 

_v._

“Marry me.”

He was testing a theory, and Paul’s dropping of his freshly replicated coffee went a long way to give him what he was looking for.

“What?” Paul asked, blinking at him with a suddenly much less sleepy expression.

Hugh turned in his chair to fix him with a piercing gaze. “You heard me.”

“I… you… _what_?” Paul repeated, rubbing at his eyes and then looking back to Hugh, who for his part had risen up from his chair, and was crossing the room until he stood facing him.

“That's not a no, Paul.”

“Hugh,” Paul let out a nervous chuckle. “You know how I feel about all that stuff.”  
  
"I know," Hugh told him, keeping his voice level and reaching for Paul's hands, taking them in his own and stroking his thumbs against the back of them with gentle, reassuring movement. "And I have never lied to you when I say I'm happy with what makes you happy. I would never ask you to do something you didn't want to do purely for my own benefit."  
  
"Then why..."  
  
"Why am I asking?" Hugh raised an eyebrow at him, and Paul swallowed nervously, nodding once without breaking their eye contact. "Because I'm testing a theory."  
  
"What theory?" Paul asked, voice tight.  
  
"The theory that my boyfriend is a human being, that just maybe his opinions have changed and grown with him, and he's an idiot who was too stubborn to tell me."  
  
Paul's eyes widened almost comically. "How do you know... "

Hugh let out a soft gasp of air, heart thudding in his chest. “That’s not a no, Paul,” he repeated, the words a mere whisper.

Paul’s eyes bored into his, desperately wide. “I…”

“Paul,” Hugh nudged gently, squeezing his hands again. “You know it’s okay with me if it is, I just need you to tell me what you’re thinking. You know you never have to hide who you are from me, Paul, even if who you are has changed a little.”

“Hugh I…” Paul licked his lips nervously, fingers digging into Hugh’s skin. “I don’t know what I want.”

Hugh smiled at him, pulling him forwards to close the distance between them. “That’s okay.”

“But I thought you wanted…”

“Paul,” Hugh cut him off sternly. “As always, it has never bothered me what you do and don’t want - you are enough for me exactly as you are, exactly what we have. All I care about is that you’re happy, but also that you’re honest with me. That’s all I want, is to know what page you’re on before we end up in different books altogether, okay?”

Paul nodded. “I’m just confused.”

“It’s okay to be confused, Paul.”

“Well I don’t like it.”

Hugh chuckled, leaning forwards to place a chaste kiss on his partner’s lips. “Typical scientist, always needing answers to things. Sometimes there aren’t easy answers, it’s not the end of the world.”

“I know that,” he replied, petulance in his voice. “I just don’t like it.”

Hugh squeezed his hands and then stepped back to look him square in the eye. “Well you are a scientist, Paul. If it bothers you that much - devise an experiment to work it out.”

“Hugh…”

Hugh reached up to stroke his cheek, comfort in the gesture. “It doesn’t matter to me what you conclude, okay? I am happy. You make me happy. I just want you to make sure you’re happy too.”

“I am happy,” Paul replied immediately. “You know I’m happy, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And... and if I decide it’s not what I want after all then - ”

“Then it won’t matter,” Hugh affirmed. “I want to be with you, Paul, and I intend to be for a long time. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Paul smiled, and Hugh kissed him again, soft and loving. Truly, he meant it. Paul’s behaviour lately had made him suspicious that his desires might have changed, but he himself was unwavering in the knowledge that he didn’t mind. He would be very happy to marry Paul, that was something he’d known for a long time, but he loved Paul, and he knew Paul loved him. It wasn’t something he needed. The only thing he needed was to know Paul was settled in at least one area of his life. The strain put on him by their commanding officer was ever-increasing, and Hugh worried for his scientist, for the risks he was taking on.

The war was not going well, and he didn’t need to have their First Officer’s genetic predisposition to know more death was coming - certainly the way their Captain fought. Increasingly as the days went on Hugh felt more unsure of what the future held, and it scared him. Paul’s health scared him, and it was something he found himself unable to fully control. One of the few things Hugh felt he had left under his control was Paul’s personal happiness - and that, that was something he would die for.

 

_+i._

Waking up from death was a peculiar feeling, certainly with the absolute knowledge that one had in fact been dead. And Hugh had _known_. He remembered the feeling intimately. The feeling of terror for the millisecond he’d known it had been coming. The feeling of his own neck snapping. The utter agony of seeing the man he loved and being the one to have to tell him he was gone. No, Hugh had been intensely aware of his own demise - which made its reversal all the more confusing.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Oh my god, Lieutenant, he’s got a heartbeat!”

Hugh flinched at the intrusion of sound, feeling almost irritated. That loud though, that had to be Tilly, and that filled him warmth that made the irritation fade once again.

“Hugh?”

Hugh’s consciousness came swimming back to him with abrupt, whiplash-inducing clarity. Paul was there. His Paul.

“Hugh?” This time the sound was accompanied by the feeling of a hand against his face, stroking featherlight against his warming skin.

“Hugh, please wake up.”

He wanted to, he did, he didn’t want to leave that voice to wait, but he wasn’t sure quite how to open his eyes yet, how to make his mouth work.

“Hugh, I know you’re there, and I know you’re tired, but I need you to stop this now. I’m tired, and I need you to wake up, understood?” Hugh recognized those words, mirrored back at him from so many months ago when he had sat in Paul’s position. Though, he surmised, Paul’s was altogether worse. He had been dead, fully dead. So dead he wasn’t quite sure how it could be true that he wasn't dead anymore. “I love you, Hugh. I swear if you don’t wake up I’ll… I’ll… if you don’t wake up I’ll ask you to marry me.” Paul insisted, and Hugh felt his freshly beating heart stutter.

“Fine then,” Paul continued, voice shaking. “You asked for it. Hugh Culber, you are without a doubt the sweetest, warmest, most considerate, and best man I’ve ever known. You’re intelligent, and honest, and kind, and I love you so very much. I loved you when you were alive, I loved you when you were dead, and I’ve gone through hell to get you back so I can be with you forever, so please just… please just wake up. Wake up and marry me.”

Hugh steeled himself, gathering his strength and willing his mouth to work. “I thought you weren’t the marrying kind,” he breathed, voice raspy with disuse.

“Oh my god.” He heard from two sets of mouths, and finally he managed to crack his eyes open to see Paul and Tilly staring down at him.

“Please tell me Tilly hasn’t been here the whole time,” Hugh croaked then, and Paul’s stunned face cracked into a smile. Tilly, for her part, looked mortified.

“I was just, erm, he needed help with the, er, with the spores and, anyway, I’ll leave… I’ll leave you two to it.” With that she practically ran from the Medbay.

Hugh’s gaze returned to Paul, who was still staring at him. “Hey,” Hugh offered, in response to his lover’s silence, and then Paul surged forwards, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tightly.

“Hey,” he breathed into his hair, reverence in his voice. They held each other for a long time, Paul’s face buried in Hugh’s shoulder as he rubbed gentle circles into Paul’s back, the strength returning slowly to his fingers. Finally, Hugh pulled back to look the other man in the eye.

“You brought me back,” he stated simply, unable to keep the awe from his tone.

“Of course I did,” Paul replied, one hand still holding his neck, thumb caressing the skin there with absent fondness. “I love you, Hugh.”

“And you never fail to show me.” He smiled.

“There is another way I can show you, if you want,” Paul said then, hand travelling down to take Hugh’s, and Hugh raised an eyebrow at him. “I was confused, you know that. But then I lost you. I’m not confused anymore, Hugh. I want you to know how much I love you, how committed I am to you.”

“I know.” Hugh told him, squeezing his hand. “How could I not know?”

“I just want to make sure you do,” Paul insisted.

“I do.”

“So will you marry me?”

“No.”

Paul’s face fell, confusion etching itself into his features.

“Not right now,” he explained. “Not two minutes after being brought back to life. Not whilst you’re emotional and I’m disoriented. Now isn’t the time to make that kind of decision.”

“Must you always be so sensible?” Paul asked, petulant.

“One of us has to be,” Hugh replied, twining their fingers together and revelling in the feeling of it. “Besides, I had to ask you five times before you even considered marrying me, why should I make it that easy for you?”

Paul’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Oh is that how it is?”

Hugh shrugged, smirking.

“Very well, my dear doctor, I suppose we’ll both just have to wait.”

“Fine by me,” Hugh replied, pulling him closer to place a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “It’s like I always told you, I don’t mind if we’re married or not. So long as we’re together, Paul.”

“We are,” Paul reassured, though whether himself or Hugh was unclear.

“Thanks to you,” Hugh smiled, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Thanks to you,” Paul shot back. “You gave me the clues.”

“You put them together.”

“Guess we make a good team,” Paul affirmed.

“Married or not,” Hugh added, and Paul kissed him.

“Married or not,” he agreed, smiling himself.

Hugh sighed as Paul deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him impossibly close. He didn’t know if Paul’s decision had been spur of the moment and adrenaline fuelled, or the result of real soul searching whilst he’d been dead, but either way, he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind whether Paul backed out and decided marriage was in fact, as he’d always said, not for him. He didn’t mind if Paul’s opinion had genuinely changed and marriage truly did lie in their future. He knew he would continue to make sure Paul knew that as well, every day if need be, to reassure him just as he had done on that very first date that that wasn’t what he needed from him. All he needed from Paul was for him to be him, so that they could be them, and after that nothing else mattered. Certainly not marriage. 

 


End file.
